


Have to Explode

by orphan_account



Series: Tallahassee [8]
Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: M/M, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-23 17:47:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7473813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>They’re ugly-drunk and bleeding, poisoned and tired, livers pickled and well into their second acts which haven’t been going swimmingly, all things considered, since they keep ending up like this.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Mac and Dennis reach an impasse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Have to Explode

**Author's Note:**

> I won't lie - this is a first draft that never got edited. It's complete and coherent but, in my opinion, a little rough around the edges. Regardless, I like it and I hope you do too.
> 
> CW for vomiting, blood, and violence.

This is how it ends – how it _always_ ends.

Dennis rinses a white washcloth in the sink as blood rolls onto his chin and drips on the grey marble counter. He wrings it dry, and presses it to his nose. The pressure eases some of the pain, and he sighs in relief as he turns around and braces himself against the sink.

Mac’s sitting on the floor with his arms around his knees and his bloody fists clenched. He looks up at Dennis, but doesn’t say a word. There are never apologies in times of crisis. This is who they are. Suddenly, Dennis is hit by the spins so hard it feels like a slap in the face, and he slumps down onto the ground, groaning.

“I hate tequila,” moans Mac, squeezing his eyes tightly shut, and Dennis laughs through his dizziness because of _course_ it’s the tequila that’s the problem. If they could only stop drinking so much damn tequila this would never happen. It’s the tequila that’s making their relationship as upside down as this fucking room –

“Shit, Mac you need to move out of the way,” he says crawling ungracefully towards the toilet. Mac scrambles a few inches to the left and Dennis moves past him to rest his head on the seat. He holds his washcloth out in Mac’s general direction. “I don’t want this to sit on the floor. Take it.”

A firm hand grips his washcloth as Dennis heaves the caustic tequila out of his system. When he’s done, he wipes his mouth with the butt of his palm, and flushes the toilet.

“That smells terrible,” says Mac, wrinkling his nose.

“Felt worse,” says Dennis. Mac offers his washcloth.

“You probably want this back.”

Mac’s hands have bled all over it – or maybe that’s Dennis’s blood. It’s always hard to tell in the aftermath.

“Keep it. Your knuckles are disgusting.”

Mac sprawls his legs out onto the floor, and holds the washcloth to his knuckles. “We’re gonna have to sneak out early tomorrow before they figure out the room is trashed.”

“Anyone who wants to complain can go fuck themselves. It’s their own bartender’s fault for not cutting us off.” Dennis scoots closer to Mac, and closes his eyes. “They shouldn’t have given us so much tequila. We could sue.”

“If you say so, man,” says Mac, yawning. “But if they call the police on you, I’m running.”

Dennis huffs out a laugh. “You’d be an accomplice, dude. They’ll go looking for you.”

Mac leans back, just a little, so the back of their heads are touching. “I’ll outrun ‘em. Philly style.”

“Where are you going to go?” asks Dennis.

“I don’t know,” says Mac quietly. “I’d figure out something.”

Blood drips down from Dennis’s nose; he feels it plop onto his button down. His nose should be crooked by now for the number of times Mac’s punched it. Maybe Mac just knows the spots that are ok to hit. This is who they are. This is home.

Dennis opens his eyes and looks up at the flickering lights on the ceiling. Their hum, the odd sloshing of the pipes, and Mac’s breathing are the only sounds in the room. There are no clocks. This space is quiet, ageless. But the age Dennis feels isn’t excited and young. The years have caught up to them here in this hotel bathroom in the middle of America far, far from home. They’re ugly-drunk and bleeding, poisoned and tired, livers pickled and well into their second acts which haven’t been going swimmingly, all things considered, since they keep ending up like this.

Macs not some runaway boy he found in Ohio. He’s forty and too old for this jealousy, too old for his closet, too old to be in his prime. Dennis can’t hold onto the lie that he will change anymore. Maybe that’s what this road trip was for all along; the futility of change was an epiphany he could only have 2000 miles from home.

“I miss Philadelphia,” says Mac, cutting through the silence.

“Me too,” says Dennis. “Two weeks away is way too long.”

“Bet the Gang got up to all sorts of shit while we were gone,” says Mac.

“We’ll have to call them in the morning. Announce that we’re coming home.”

“We’re going back to Philly,” says Mac, a smile in his voice. “We’re going home.”

This has always been a round trip. And that’s ok. That’s ok.

They’re going home.


End file.
